WHALING VOYAGE. 
331 
with those scenes, we might have for a moment con- 
sidered him a forlorn being exposed to a thousand wants 
— an outcast, a savage ; but if we examine his appear- 
ance, if we look at the boldness of his frame, if we 
notice the animation in his eye, — the cheerful smile upon 
his face — 'the courageous bearing of his form-— -the loud, 
the free, and careless laugh,— then must we spon- 
taneously think of the meaning of the poet’s words, 
which doubtingly inquire, and state— 1 “ if ignorance is 
bliss, ’tis folly to be wise.” Happiness, that immortal 
boon which all our arts and boasted sciences can scarce 
confer, is to be found within those burning zones. Under 
the tall and wide-spreading foliage of some majestic tree, 
the rude and uneducated mortal carves his war-spear, or 
forms the massive club or barbed arrow. His daughter, 
his wife, or devoted lover, prepares the rude head-dress, 
the bracelets of shells, or twists the fishing-line from 
the fibres of the cocoa-nut husk. If the call of hunger 
invade them, the clear ocean spontaneously presents its 
living fare, or the generous land offers without cultiva- 
tion the tempting banana, the cocoa, or mealy yam. The 
cool mountain water flows at his feet, and gives him un- 
asked its reviving draught, while the thick foliage forms 
the shady bower, free from the scorching sun. With 
these bounteous gifts of nature, the inhabitants of those 
intertropical climes must enjoy years of real repose 
and unalloyed delight. War, disease, and famine, may, 
as with us, make their unwelcome visits ; but they are, 
no doubt, in these regions “few and far between.” 
During the night of the 8th of February 1832, we 
